I’ve been cooking and baking my way through Green Kitchen Travels, a beautiful cookbook written and photographed by the same couple behind the blog, Green Kitchen Stories. I’ve been mesmerized by their life, their travel inspired stories and the beautiful colors and images that fill the pages. As I’ve read and eaten my way through this book, I’ve felt my heart yearning for more adventure, and more life. There has been a lot of reflection on my part, and I feel as though I have lived in a constant state of reflection. While I have a fierce longing to see, taste, touch and smell every square inch of this earth, this is not what I crave most. I long to be the person I am when I’m traveling. I want to be her now, as a wife and mother. I miss the person who could lose her passport and plane ticket and not get too bent out of shape. I miss the person who would sit with the sunrise and sunset and never run out of enough praise for such beauty. I miss the person who would intentionally go on walks only to get lost and found and lost all over again. I miss the person who surrendered to every moment and gave gratitude for it all.

Unlike every year prior, I have had little intention or focus for the year, only a mantra that has rushed in and transformed every cell. A mantra that was once my, fake it til’ you make it, pep talk. You know, the pep talk you give yourself when both children are melting down, you are running on a few lousy hours of sleep and you wake to dirty dishes, laundry and blueberry stained surfaces (ALL surfaces.) Give in, give gratitude,these words happened quite accidentally, after a rather rude awakening. I was once a spontaneous, go with the flow, anything in the world could happen to me and you will still find me smiling, seeker of joy. But I woke up this fall a huffing and puffing, tired mama, nagging wife, an out of touch stealer of joy. Seeing myself become these unattractive things was both humbling and earth-shaking. I wallowed in this realization for a day, maybe two and then I took a good hard look at myself and I started to give thanks. I listed, spoke and meditated on my gratefulness. It just seemed like the most natural thing to do, a remedy for healing, a road to getting back home. I gave thanks until it became contagious, almost addictive. Then, just like that, I woke giddy to find yet another thing to be grateful for. The most simple things like an apartment facing east and babes who rise early, became something to celebrate. My sense of awe and wonder was reborn.

I used to wonder why it was so much easier to surrender to even the greatest catastrophes abroad and so much harder to remain open and grateful for an equally growing experience back home. I’ve found that it’s easier to surrender when your days feel numbered or when you know you will find yourself in a new place sometime next week. Abroad or domestic, land or airborne it is all just as fleeting, but there is something about the day in and day out monotony of domesticity that can dull your senses, and tell you that adventure and life are found elsewhere. The things that once sparked your attention and received your thanks become old news when you start to see that it will all happen again tomorrow. It’s like saying, tomorrow I can celebrate, tomorrow I can give thanks. But the spilling of shredded coconut out of eager helping hands, and another happy baby chasing her mess, or that mesmerizing sunrise, they only happened once in that unique way. Just once.

I’ve been given an informal invitation to take back the every day, to chase beauty and find joy in the little things. I don’t need a new city or suitcase, in fact I don’t have to go anywhere. I can even stay inside our little apartment because traveling does not have to be something I do, it can be a state of mind. I believe more adventure and life are waiting for me in bubble baths and dishes, fort making and cookie baking. This year I am giving in and giving gratitude. This year I’m becoming a traveler inside my very own home.

Place all ingredients into a food processor or high-powered blender. Pulse for about 20-30 seconds or until the ingredients turn into a thick, slightly tacky dough. Press the dough firmly into a small 4 x 6 rectangle pan, or a mini loaf pan, like pictured above. Leave in the fridge for at least an hour or overnight. Cut into bars or using a knife small butter knife, gently pop them out from the molds. Wrap in parchment paper and keep in the fridge for up to a few weeks, (they probably won’t last that long!)